When Angels Fly Away
by kate avalanche
Summary: “Then how do you know you need me? And naked?" “I was thinking I’d make Cerrunos, the Horned God, but now that I look at you, it doesn’t quite fit.”“I’m not fit to be a horny god?” Zexion chuckled. Zemyx, giftfic for theisraelproject.107


omgwtfbbq! Katie's posting something? And it's a oneshot?! It's been such a long time!

But this is a special occasion! FIRST, it's Zemyx day!! And since that's my second fav pairing ever (it's a tie for first between SeiferXHayner and StanXKyle(yeah, south park)). ALSO, this is my first ever giftfic for the person who first inspired me to write for the KH fandom. theisraelproject.107!! Seriously, if you ever want to read something that is beyond epic, READ ONE (OR ALL) OF HER FICS. They are not something to entertain you for an hour or two. They are something to be savoured. And adored. And fangirled over.

Lauren, I can only hope this is something you'll like. I gave it my best shot. Just ask Brynna, she's been forced to read over most of the drafts, many of which were pretty damn bad.

And finally, a warning. I'm not bashing any religion. I know this story and Windowpanes both kinda push the envelope, but I have no problems with any of the religions of the world (except the creepy ones which are really more like cults...)

Enjoy!

* * *

Music washes away from the soul  
the dust of everyday life.  
**- Berthold Auerbach**

Slowly, the song faded as aquamarine eyes opened and a mouth turned up to smile, "So, what did you think? I haven't got that much done, but…what? What's that face for?"

"Demyx…do you know what you've just done?" the angel shook her head sadly, "No, you wouldn't. But what's done is... you really leave me no choice."

Demyx looked at her, confused, "I don't understand. What is it I've done?"

Emotionless eyes locked onto his, "Pride, my boy. Pride has been your failing."

In the next few moments, reality became a warped world of pain, and Demyx heard heart-wrenching screams he dimly registered as his own as his wings were torn from his back and his limp body plummeted to Earth.

Never let it be said that Heaven's judgment was not swift and incontestable.

* * *

Demyx was first aware of two sensations: darkness, and an overwhelming ache that was centered on his shoulder blades but reached throughout his entire body, making laying still a very attractive option.

Except for the dark. That was weird. Heaven wasn't dark, even at night. Yeah, the big lights went out, but everything still let off a soft glow. This…wherever he was…was dark. He moved to sit up and get a better look around and regretted it immediately.

"Ow," he whimpered, hoping no one had heard.

"Hello? Are you up?" a soft voice asked, and a thin crack of light appeared. The crack grew wider, and he could just make out a feminine shape, "Oh good. I'd been worried. You hadn't moved or anything since I found you yesterday. It's a good thing I was with a friend or there's no way I could have carried you anywhere. How are you feeling?"

"My back hurts. So, where am I?"

"Suburbs outside Hollow Bastion," Demyx nodded as if that made sense, "Now mind telling me how you ended up unconscious in the neigbourhood park with clothes that were not only charred but soaking wet, and yet there's not a scratch on you?"

"Luck?" he tried for an innocent grin, which quickly twisted into a wince at the shooting pains in his shoulder blades. The girl picked up a bottle from the bedside table, unscrewing the cap and shaking out two pills, "Here. Advil," she held them out expectantly, so he took them.

"Now sit up," she pulled the pillows out from under his head and formed a steeper slope. Demyx scooted up slowly, shards of pain making it difficult. When she handed him the glass of water, it clicked. When humans hurt, they took medicine. He assumed that's what she had given him and attempted to swallow the little pills like what he'd seen people do a thousand times. The girl laughed quietly when he spluttered the mouthful of water everywhere.

"I was never any good at taking pills either. You want to try again?"

As much as he didn't feel like humiliating himself again, every nerve he possessed screamed for him to swallow his pride, and the medicine. The second try went smoothly.

"I'm Namine."

"Demyx."

"Nice to meet you Demyx," Namine smiled.

* * *

Over the next few days, it became obvious that Demyx was in unfamiliar territory. He didn't understand toasters, telephones, or televisions. He was perplexed by rice cookers, refrigerators, and Red Bull commercials.

"Dem, this is just a shot in the dark here, but you're not human, are you?" Namine asked one day after he'd jumped about a foot in the air when her washing machine beeped that it was done.

"Nami, what're you talking about?"

"You speak perfect English with no accent, so it can't be that you've never seen these things in a third world country, but you had no idea what canned soup was. Demyx, everyone knows what canned soup is."

"My family never got-"

"You didn't know how to use a toilet!" Namine burst out, "And the marks on your back…I thought they were scars, but they're perfectly symmetrical. That's not normal!" She looked him in the eye, "So I'm going to ask you again. You're not human, are you?"

Demyx looked away and mumbled, "An angel. I'm an angel."

Namine rolled her eyes, "There's no way you're act…ually, that sort of makes sense," her eyes focused on his, "So if you don't mind my asking, what's an angel like you doing in a place like this?"

Demyx shifted uncomfortable, "It's sort of a long story."

* * *

"So what are you going to do when I'm gone?" Namine asked, looking over her shoulder as she emptied the dishwasher.

The angel looked up, confused, "What do you mean, gone?"

"Winter break only lasts so long Dem; I've got to go back to school day after tomorrow," she laughed to herself, "Maybe you should come with."

"I'd like that…but that's not possible, is it?"

Namine smiled, "Depends on who you ask."

* * *

"Well, everything seems to check out. So Mr. Gabriel, here is your list of classes. I hope to hear only good things about you. Miss Leblanc should be able to help you if you have any trouble getting acclimated. Good luck," Demyx took the paper the woman had placed in front of him, nodded him thanks, and left. As he stepped out into the hall, Namine flipped her sketchbook closed and rushed up to him.

"So? How did it go?"

"Gabriel? Really Nam? Of all the last names in existence, you pick the name of the freaking angel of death?"

Namine flushed, but looked him dead in the eye, "No one likes their name. Welcome to the world. And anyway," she put her hands on her hips, "I kind of like the name Gabriel. It's better than Leblanc."

She was interrupted by the grumbling of Demyx's stomach.

"Come on Dem; let's go get something to eat. What do you feel like having? There shouldn't really be crowds anywhere since break doesn't end until day after tomorrow."

* * *

It turned out Namine was right about the crowds. Unfortunately, there was also the fact that every place they passed was closed. So as they wandered the campus looking for a place that was open, Namine paused.

"Hey Demyx, I'm going to run to my dorm for a second. When you find a place, get a table and call me?"

"Sure."

* * *

"You can't keep this up Zex; you're going to fail the class… You do get that, right? You'll fail."

"Then I'll fail."

Green and blue-grey eyes met, both refusing to look away.

"Axel, we're not kids anymore. You can't make me change my mind with a staring contest," Zexion sounded amused, Axel took that as a good sign. He wasn't shutting him down yet.

"Fine then, what about a game?"

"You're not getting me to play strip poker again. I already have blackmail pictures of you."

"Honestly Zexion, I'm hurt. I'd never pull the same trick twice…especially when it failed so spectacularly the first time. No, I'm thinking a different sort of game. Remember when we were little and my sister would make us watch Gilmore Girls with her?"

"Vaguely. I don't like where this is going."

"So you don't remember the game '1-2-3, He's Yours'? First person passes, take them or pass. Second, same thing. Third person, if you've passed the other two, you're stuck with him. That way, not matter what, you'll have someone!"

Zexion gave him that exquisite glare that Axel had only ever seen cats manage to duplicate, "This sounds like an incredibly bad idea doomed to fail."

Axel slung him arm over Zexion's shoulders, grinning, "Knew you'd like it. Ok, just watch out the window."

Zexion sighed, but looked out all the same. A small blonde in a white pea coat and jeans walked by, sketchbook tucked under her arm. Axel nudged him, "Hmm?"

"Pass. She's too much of a waif."

A few moments later, a tall man with dreadlocks and sideburns that threatened to engulf his entire face walked by.

"Pass?"

"Dear God, yes."

"Thought so. You know you're stuck with the next one, right?"

Again that feline glare. He didn't protest though. Axel wasn't entirely sure if that was because he accepted it or just didn't give a damn about the whole affair. He swished the dregs left in his mug, wondering if he could afford to buy another hot tea when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. Someone was walking towards the coffee shop, but under the knitted hat, thick scarf, and two sizes too big coat, it was impossible to tell anything about said person. Except that they probably had no tolerance for the cold.

"Well Zex, lucky number three. Go get 'im…or her. Or it."

"I demand a recount," he said flatly.

"Oh, just go get the kid. Lure him into the warmth so we can figure out if it's even human."

As Zexion opened the door, he paused to glower at his friend, and then walked out. Axel watched through the window, snickering to himself. No matter what the kid looked like underneath his Eskimo getup, it was amusing to see Zexion knocked off of his high horse. For once, he was glad his little sister had always roped them into watching that show. He made a mental promise to, the next time Sora and Riku were being assholeish to her, tell them to knock it the hell off. Or something nice and brotherly like that. He snapped back to attention at the jangle of the bells on the door. And the bundle of winter apparel that had come in with Zexion. The bundle of winter apparel that was being removed and slowly revealing…a really adorable boy…with a really weird haircut.

"Demyx, this is Axel. Axel, Demyx. He says he's never posed for a painting before, but that it sounds cool."

Axel managed to cough out, "Zex, you're my fuckin' hero," before doubling over laughing.

* * *

"Posing for a painting? Really? Demyx, sweetie, darling big brother? You're not here to have fun or make friends or be immortalized in art! You're here to find a loophole in your punishment and end your exile here on Earth! I didn't pull so many strings to come here just to visit my favourite brother; I came to help you get home. You remember Demyx? Heaven? Pearly gates and all that?"

Demyx held back a sigh. It sounded like Larxene's rant was winding down, but any reaction on his part was sure to start is up again.

"Demyx, I asked you a question."

"Repetez, s'il vous plait?"

"Don't get cute with me. I asked if you made any progress finding a way around your punishment."

"Oh. I don't know really. I can still write music, but playing isn't working. And apparently vocal cords count as an instrument, because as soon as I try to sing, my throat closes up."

"Whistle."

"Larx, I couldn't do that _before_ they took away my music."

"'Larxene,' Demyx. And damn."

"It's ok, I'll find a way. But Zexy asked me to come over to the art studio in an hour, so I'll see you later. I've got to get ready."

"I'm sure he won't appreciate you calling him 'Zexy'," Larxene said, "Just remember Demyx, the Kingdom of Heaven is less and less your home the longer you waste time playing on Earth." The close of the door behind her sounded like an exclamation point tacking itself on the end of her statement.

"…I know that Larx, I just…I'm not sure I hate that idea as much as I used to," he said to the empty room.

* * *

Demyx placed a tentative hand on the doorknob.

"Come in."

"Holy sh – Hi Zexy. So, uh, how'd you know I was there?"

"…It's a stained glass door."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess it is. So…I came, like you asked. Are we starting modeling today or is this just a social call?"

"Modeling. Strip please."

"-the _fuck_? I was not told this was part of the-"

He was cut off by laughter. Once Zexion was able, he gasped out between giggles, "You – you're too – much too easy! If only you'd been able to see – your face!"

This was a different…really weird side of Zexion that Demyx absolutely had not seen before. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

"In all honesty though, the shirt's gonna have to go. And eventually the pants too. No, don't make that face," Demyx was making a face that was part horror, part confusion, all displeased with the way this was going, "Christ, you can keep your underwear. I just need to see the form I'm portraying."

Demyx's jaw hit the floor, "Which…form?"

"…you, of c – oh! No, not that one. No, see, the class is Art in Religion, so for an alternative to my final, I'm doing a painting. I just… I don't know what to do yet."

"Then how do you know you need me? And naked?' his eyebrow arched on the last part.

"For the longest time I was thinking I'd make Cerrunos, the Horned God, but now that I look at you, it doesn't quite fit."

"I'm not fit to be a horny god?"

Zexion chuckled, shaking his head, "No. Now that I look at you, I think more…angel."

* * *

"Now Demyx, I understand that transferring schools partway through the semester – well, almost at the end really – much be difficult, but it says on your transcripts that you had advanced music composition at your previous school as well, is that right?" Demyx nodded, not really sure what was coming next, "Then I'll assume you have at least a small collection of pieces you've arranged?"

Ho'snap. It wasn't that he didn't have any compositions; he had shitloads scattered all over his room…back in Heaven. Oh Earth, he only had the one. His blasphemous piece.

"Ah…well, you see. I do have several pieces, but the reason I transferred is because of a…family issue. And I'm not exactly sure how to get them," Demyx sighed. Lying at a moment's notice was not one of his strengths. The professor raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so? Then you had better get to work and either get them back or start some new projects. Your final is to provide a piece to be played by our orchestra in the winter showcase. Judging from your transcripts, I expect something amazing."

"You got it," Demyx smiled weakly.

* * *

When class was finally over Demyx nearly sprinted out the door and down the hall. His eyes slid past each door until he found the one he'd been looking for. Art in Religion. The only class he knew Zexion had. Opening the door, he peeked inside and found it empty except for the teacher marking papers. Fabulous.

"Excuse me, sir? If I could just have a moment?"

The man looked up. His face was startled, but not angry. Demyx felt a little braver, and walked down to his desk.

"I know you don't know me, and I'm sorry for interrupting you, but I'm working with Zexion on a project and I can't get a hold of him. Could you tell me which building his dorm is in?" As he was speaking, Demyx realized he didn't know Zexion's last name. It hadn't occurred to him to get it; angels had no last names. The instructor seemed to pick up on Demyx's cluelessness as well, looking at him askance. After a moment tough, he turned to his computer. With a few clicks, he turned back to Demyx.

"He's in the Twilight building. West end of the campus. Do you want his number so he'll know you're coming and can let you in?"

"Actually, that would be great. Are you allowed to give this out though?"

"Nope. But Zexion's not doing too well in this class so far and I'm guessing that you're his model for the project?"

Demyx looked at him, "How'd you know?"

The man laughed out loud, "Because he avoids most people at all costs, but my final requires him to use a model. I think human interaction should be good for him," he scribbled a number down on a post-it and handed it to Demyx with a smile, "Good luck kid. And don't let him take himself too seriously."

Demyx nodded as he left the room, more than a little confused.

_

* * *

"Demyx? How'd you get my number?"_

"Magic. Hey, are you free right now?"

_"Yeah, I've got the rest of the day free. Why?"_

"Because something came up and I'm not sure I can be there to model for you tomorrow. Would today be ok instead? I don't want you to get behind or anything."

_"Oh, ok. I'll be there in a minute. Lemme get some shoes on."_

* * *

Demyx leaned up against the wall of the studio, shivering. Zexion had long since gotten past the stage where he only needed Demyx's shirt off, so there he was, waiting for the boy, in boxers and a bath robe. He had protested at first, saying that while they were still doing the preliminary sketch he should at least be allowed to keep his pants, but Zexion had refused every time the issue was raised.

"My god, it's a sauna in here. Demyx, I can't think with it this warm."

"Well, I can't think when I'm freezing, so you can let me put my clothes on, or you can take some of yours off," Demyx grinned wickedly as Zexion's jaw slacked slightly.

Then he nodded; "Fair enough," now it was Demyx turn to go slack-jawed. This was NOT what he had meant! Ok, so he had offered it as one of Zexion's options, but that didn't mean he'd expected the boy to – oh my. There went the shirt…the belt…the pants. And the whole time, blue-grey eyes were staring straight into his. This was NOT supposed to be hot! This had been a freaking ploy to get Demyx's clothes back on, not Zexion's off!

They stood there, not really sure where to go from there, Demyx in rubber ducky boxers, Zexion in black-purple.

"You're right, the temperature is much better now."

It was all Demyx could do to reply with a weak, "I told you so."

* * *

"No, it's just not working!" Demyx flinched slightly as Zexion tore off another sheet of paper, balling it up and hurling it at the ever-growing pile to his right.

"Is it something I can fix?"

"No," Zexion snapped, "Oh, sorry. No, it's just…you've got this quality that I can't define, and no pose we've tried captures it. It's like…"

"Angelic?" Demyx smiled.

"Not exactly. Well, that too, but it's like…you don't belong here?"

"Oh gee, thanks."

"Not that way!"

"Like a fallen angel," Demyx volunteered.

"Yes, sort of."

"Who did nothing to deserve his punishment," he added bitterly. He could feel his throat tightening, and from the reclining pose he'd had before, he pulled inward, glancing up.

"That's it! Don't move at all!" So naturally, his legs fell straight and his head popped in Zexion's direction, "Damn it Demyx!"

"Oop, sorry Zex. Here, I'll…was it like this?"

"Eh, sort of, but – just let me?" he reached out, rearranging Demyx's limbs. As he pushed and prodded, Demyx wondered if he only saw him as a living dummy, a tool, a means to an end. Because with Zexion hovering over him like that, and both of them only in their underwear, Demyx was awfully cognizant of absolutely everywhere the boy was touching him.

"Demyx, why are you jumping every time I move you? It's incredibly distracting?"

The blond looked at him. He really was that dense! "Sorry Zexy, it's just your manly nakedness has got me all hot and bothered," he fanned himself with one hand, rolling his eyes.

"That's ni – wait, what?"

"You're pawing at me and we're naked. I think I have a right to be a little twitchy," Zexion blushed at that.

"Well, I could stop-"

"No, you don't have to," Demyx cut him off. He mumbled to himself, "…it's nice…" and executing a ploy hormone crazed girls everywhere would have been proud of, he let his leg slide, knocking Zexion off balance and tumbling him on top of Demyx. He grinned, looking up at the blue-grey eyes just inches away from his own, "Can't keep your hands off me?"

Zexion spluttered in protest, propping himself up with his hands.

"I'm kidding! You're too much fun to mess with. And now sir, while I don't doubt that your intentions are pure, could you possibly remove yourself from my body?"

"Oh, God, right," Zexion rolled off, sitting up as straight as a board, "So…maybe this should be it for today?"

"If you want," Demyx stood, lifting one foot at a time to pull on his pants, "Ooh, and Zexy? Could I ask you a huge favour?"

"Ask all you want."

"Well, I'm working on this one piece for my senior showcase, and I was wondering if you could play piano? I'd do it myself, but it's not the same when I'm the one playing it…"

Zexion looked at him, "Yes, I can play. If you can't find anyone else, then I'll help."

Demyx's face broke into a wide smile, "You're the best!"

* * *

"So you want me to play what you have written here?"

Demyx nodded, "I can't really hear it if I'm the one playing, so that's why I need you."

"But this is more complex than any piece I've ever seen…"

"I'm not saying it has to be perfect, but could you try?"

Damn Demyx and his puppy eyes… He slumped momentarily and nodded, setting the sheet music in its holder and testing the first few notes. As he continued, he felt more and more like the music wasn't coming from the piano at all, but like it was – as bizarre as it sounded – coming up from inside Zexion himself. It was almost painful, and at the same time exquisite and the most emotionally charged music he'd ever heard. It crashed over his head, pulling him out into an aquamarine haze, crackling through him like liquid fire, like nothing before, like the pulse of life itself and he didn't want it to stop, after the next phrase, the next line, the next page, something incredibly important was waiting and he had to make it, he needed to make it –

The end. There wasn't anything more written.

Zexion blinked. And then he realized he hadn't been breathing, and that was probably very bad.

Demyx looked at him and quietly, "So what did you think? Is it ok? I like it so far, but…it wasn't too well received the last time someone else heard it."

"Were they insane?" Zexion's eyebrow nearly shot off his forehead, "I don't know what the hell that was, but it wasn't like anything I've ever…anything really. There are no words."

The blond's face split in a wide smile, "You don't know what it means to me to hear you say that."

"So if it's not too personal a question, what inspired you to write this?"

Demyx gave a strange grin, "God."

* * *

And that's how the next few days went. Demyx and Zexion would go to classes, go to the studio to work on Zexion's senior project, and then go to one of the music rooms to work on Demyx's. And unless one of them needed to be up early the next morning, they generally fell asleep in Demyx's room, sprawled across each other like puppies. And Axel would tease Zexion and Namine would question Demyx about what exactly was going on between them. And no matter how many times they denies that there was anything going on, both Axel and Namine swore there had to be.

And the funny thing was that all of them were sort of right.

* * *

Demyx opened his eyes and lolled his head in the direction of his bedside clock. 2:47 AM

Quarter to three in the freaking morning, and he was starving.

He turned his head the other way and, "Zex. Hey Zexy, your foot's in my face. Zexy, are you up?" He wiggled his foot until it connected with what felt like a nose.

"Now I am. Demyx, what time is it?"

"Quarter to three…"

"Then go back to sleep," Zexion grumbled, "Idiot."

"But Zexion! I'm hungryyyyyyy… And I want waffles. And we don't have any. And I can't drive," Demyx rolled over so that he and Zexion were lying the same way. He poked the boy until he cracked open one eye to glare at him, "And that's where you come in!"

Zexion scowled as he propped himself up on his elbow, "You want me to go with you to an all-night restaurant for waffles?" Demyx nodded vigorously, "…fine. Go get my keys and I'll be there in a minute."

"Sweet!" Demyx practically bounced out of the dorm, snapping the keys off the desk and a shirt off the chair as he went.

By the time they found an all night restaurant that served breakfast, it was about 3:30, and Demyx had gone through the entire range of radio stations. Twice. Some part of Zexion's brain told him he ought to want to beat Demyx with a tire iron, but he couldn't find the energy to bother. ...Or the tire iron. He just followed the boy in and to an empty booth in the back of the restaurant. He stayed in that daze until their orders arrived – Demyx's orders of strawberry waffles, blueberry pancakes, apple cinnamon French toast, and a side of bacon, and Zexion's hot tea and scrambled eggs.

At first, it started out like small talk, but at some point that changed. Zexion noticed that Demyx was smiling too brightly, laughing too loudly…even for him.

"Demyx, is there any reason for you asking me to come here?"

And just like that, Demyx stopped. He sat there for a moment, his fork frozen above a strawberry, poised to attack. He sat there, staring at nothing, while the too bright smile faded to a shadow of itself. He set his fork down.

"Yeah," he looked up at Zexion, "Yeah there was."

"Do you want to talk about it? Or…"

"No, it's ok. I need to talk about it. Even if you don't believe me."

Zexion – unable to talk with a mouthful of tea – made a confused, "Mmm?"

"As much as I really want to avoid this, I think it's pretty clear we're both too freaking sleep-deprived for me to bother. Um…see, the reason I always have you play my music for me isn't because I need to hear someone else play it. It's because, if I do it, no noise comes out. At all. Of any musical instrument. And…well, you see…it's because – see, I didn't transfer here because of a family issue, like I told everyone. It's because I was thrown out…of Heaven. I'm sort of an angel."

Zexion choked on his tea, "Run that by me again?"

Demyx went slightly grey, "I'm a fallen angel. …because that song we're working on? I guess they took it as hubris, my writing something like that, and they threw me out, and made it so I can't make music at all. But I can't go back until I finish that song. And…yeah, I think that's it."

When Zexion didn't say anything, Demyx felt his heart sink a little. He'd thought it might go like this, but –

"What. The hell," Zexion laughed, "The crazy thing is that I can tell you're serious. Damn. I mean, that song of yours is amazing and all, but enough for them to toss you out of Heaven?"

"Hey!" Demyx frowned, "It's the best freaking song you've ever heard and you know it!"

"If you say so."

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. And right then, Demyx knew it would all be ok.

* * *

"Hey Demyx, can we take a break for a second?" Zexion sighed, stretching his neck to ease the knots. He straightened the sheet music, looking anywhere but Demyx's face. How quickly he'd run out of things with which to fidget. Reluctantly, Zexion met Demyx's curious eyes, "Am I the only one that knows? About you, I mean. Am I the only one you've told?"

"Nope," Demyx smiled, "Nam knows. Of course, she was the one who found me. So it only makes sense that she figured it out, you know?"

"Figured it out? You didn't tell her?"

That got a laugh out of the blonde, "I didn't need to! It was pretty obvious."

Demyx looked away, his ears gone pink. That sort of reaction just begged Zexion to press for more information. He waited though, not sure he wanted to know. As the silence started to get awkward, he asked, "How so?"

"…Angels…don't use the restroom."

His ears were bright red now, and the flush had spread to his face. Zexion stared at him, silent. Then he burst out laughing. It was a full-bodied laugh, welling up from deep inside, and if Demyx hadn't been on the verge of death by shame, he would have noticed how much he liked the sound.

But he was shamefaced, and what came next only mortified him further.

"So you wet yourself?"

"No! …well…sort of. But only once! It's not funny, Zexion!"

Zexion stifled a few giggles with a cough, "No, you're right, it's not. It's – oh fuck it," he gave a snicker, "yes, it is."

"Bitch," Demyx grumbled, throwing his shoe at his tormentor, "Play more or go home."

"Fine. Piss on my parade. No pun intended," Zexion smirked, but resituated himself at the keyboard.

The next hour flew by uneventfully. Then, after the third wrong note in a row, Zexion lifted his hands from the keyboard, placing them in his lap, 'Demyx, if I keep making mistakes, I'm going to lose my patience and take it out on the keyboard. We should stop here for tonight."

"No, we can't! We've only been working for a little while and senior projects are due in just over a week!"

"I'll copy this sheet music and practice so I can play it, but as I am now, it's too difficult a piece for me," Zexion moved to leave, but Demyx leapt up from his spot on the floor and pulled Zexion back down.

"Here, I have an idea that might help," he sat directly behind Zexion, taking his hands and putting them back over the keys. Then Demyx laid his hands over Zexion's, "Just go with me. Then it's like I'm the one playing."

"Demyx, this isn't Ghost, and I'm definitely not Demi Moore," Zexion protested, trying to ignore the fact that Demyx was pressed up flush behind him.

"Just try it? If it doesn't work, we can quit for tonight, but I want to try this," he leaned his head so he could see the music, and started playing.

This time, all Zexion had to do was respond to Demyx's touch, so he was able to close his eyes and just listen to the music. Again that feeling of being overwhelmed came, and Zexion reveled in it. Without realizing, he slumped against Demyx's chest with a sigh, and Demyx hit a sour note. He paused.

"Demyx?"

"It's nothing," he said automatically. It was anything but fine. There wasn't anything extremely suggestive about the position they were in, so why did Demyx feel like he'd – completely inappropriate cliché aside – died and gone to Heaven? And while he definitely did, that was one of the less prominent thoughts smacking around the walls of his brain. First and foremost was the thought that, given the option, he's happily stay like this forever.

And, being more or less immortal, he had a pretty decent idea of just how long "forever" was.

* * *

Zexion wandered into the back of the auditorium, being careful not to stumble in the relative dark. In his hand was a rumpled sheet of paper –

"Zexy, I don't know if I can ever thank you enough for helping me like you have with the instruments. The orchestra is practicing their part of it today in the auditorium, and I'll be there conducting. If you want to drop by, we'll be there from 2 – 5.

-Dem"

And so there was Zexion, slipping into a seat where he had a good view of Demyx and was as unnoticeable as possible. It looked like the students were already done tuning and the blonde stood at the ready on the conductor's platform. Despite the ecstatic expression Zexion caught every time Demyx turned around, he seemed out of place up front and alone. He looked like he longed to have an instrument – any instrument – in his hands, rather than the delicate baton he was flailing around.

When the music started, Zexion was taken aback at just how different it was from all the times he and Demyx had played together. It was richer, fuller. And at the same time, it felt like the piece was missing some vital something. He wondered idly if there was a part for vocals, but who would have helped Demyx with that part?

Deciding it wasn't that important, Zexion slid down in the chair and closed his eyes, surrendering what little use of vision the dim lights afforded to better listen to the music.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zexion was dimly aware of someone calling his name.

"Zexion…Zexy? Zexion, wake up. I'm pregnant. It's yours."

That must have triggered a strong enough what-the-fuck reaction, because Zexion's eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright.

And Demyx just laughed.

"Demyx, do you have any idea how impossible that is?"

He shrugged and grinned, "So's immaculate conception; never stopped Mary. You wouldn't wake up, I had to say _something_. Rehearsal is over. I was on my way out when I saw you all curled up in the chair. Did you know your nose twitches when you're asleep?"

"It does not," Zexion looked vaguely mortified at the thought.

"Whatever you say. Anyway, now that I'm done for today, do we go to your studio?"

Zexion nodded, "All that's really left is the details of your face, so you can even keep your clothes on today."

Demyx's face split in a grin, "Aw, Zexy! I love you."

* * *

"Zexy, I hate you."

Zexion's brow furrowed, "Demyx, don't speak."

"You only want me for my body?"

"When you speak, your face moves and it's very hard for me to get the shadows right."

"So you only want me for my shadows?"

Zexion sighed, "Demyx, shut up."

* * *

"So, little brother, you've figured out how to get home," Larxene's voice drawled in Demyx's head, "but tell me Demyx, if you've found the way out, why have you not done it yet?"

"I don't know Larx, leave me alone," Demyx hated it when she spoke in his mind. All angels could do it, but it had always felt like an invasion of privacy to him.

"I think you do know. I think you just don't want to tell your big sister."

Demyx pulled out a pair of headphones, turning his mp3 player to max volume. He'd never be able to stop Larxene, but at least he could drown her out. What she was saying rang all too true to let her continue. And so he laid there, music blaring, Larxene still speaking, and thoughts he'd never imagined having swirling around in his mind.

Larxene must have realized what he was doing, because moments later, a ghost of a caress ran along Demyx's cheek and, with a crackle, his music fell silent.

"Sweetie, it seems you need reminding; you are trying to come _home_," her voice became sharp, knifing through his mind, "You should never have been banished, that was a regrettable turn of events, but you have no business remaining on Earth. What possible pleasure can be found here for the prince of Heaven?"

Demyx squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears leaking from the corners, "Shut up Larxene. I gave that up long ago. Father's punishment wasn't truly about the song and you know it. He just didn't want someone as weak as me to have that much power! Heaven is better off without me, Larx."

"Demyx," Larxene cooed, "Heaven is your _home_. Father loves you, and if you only knew how much it pained him to banish you. Why do you think he left such an obvious loophole?"

"I – I don't know," he said. He could feel his resolve melting in the face of Larxene's arguments.

"So go get ready. You're going to go to the concert tonight and conduct the most exquisite piece of music ever, and then you can come home. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

The voice of his sister, so soft and convincing, faded, leaving Demyx alone in the silence.

* * *

"Well, this is it Zexy. After this, I can go home,' Demyx smiled, "Thank you for everything."

"Anytime," Zexion said lamely. He was happy for Demyx, honestly. It was just the bizarre twisting feeling in his stomach that made him wonder, was this really what Demyx wanted? Or, forget that, was it was Zexion wanted? Right now, he was finding it all a little hard to tell. Demyx opened his mouth to speak, but Zexion, in an unusually emotional moment, flung his arms around the blond.

"Are you sure you want to go? You won't miss this?"

Demyx smiled, "Yeah Zex, I really do need to go home." He gave Zexion a squeeze and walked out onto the stage, determination etched in his expression.

"That's not what I asked Dem…" He watched from the wings as Demyx stepped up onto the small platform, bowing slightly to the audience and then turning to face upstage. He nodded to the musicians, and to two small groups on either side Zexion hadn't noticed before. The chorus. Oh, so there was a vocal part. Again, he wondered who could have helped with that part.

"Hey Zexion. So tonight's the big night, right?" Zexion turned to see Namine at his side. Well, that answered his question.

"In more ways than one," he replied, trying not to sound as regretful as he felt.

Namine nodded, and Zexion saw that her eyes were glassy, "I'm really going to miss him. It feels like it's only been a couple of days since I found him in the park."

Zexion laughed quietly, "You make it sound like he's a stray cat." Namine smiled at that.

They fell silent to listen to the music, as neither one of them had heard the other's parts yet. Each, on their own, had been amazing. Together, neither could find a word strong enough to describe it. But despite all of that, as the piece continued, Zexion started to feel, for lack of a better word, twitchy.

There was something wrong with the air in the concert hall. He couldn't place it, it was as though it was too thick or heavy or something. He just felt as though he was being pressed. Down, away, inward, maybe all of them. He glanced at Namine and her expression told him he wasn't the only one feeling it.

It was an intense feeling of wrongness. But as soon as Zexion realized that's what it was, the feeling changed. The pressure was almost entirely gone. And this time, it wasn't the air that felt odd. It was the music itself. It felt like it was pulling back towards the stage.

Towards Demyx.

The music was going to open the way home for him.

Demyx glanced away from the musicians and looked to Zexion. His mouth quirked up into a strange smile, and he mouthed silently, "Thank you…" With that, he turned back to the orchestra and closed his eyes. A look of indescribable calm overtook his face, and it almost broke Zexion's heart. He couldn't ask Demyx to stop and stay with him. Not when it was this clear how much the angel needed that Zexion could never give him.

He started at a warm pressure on his palm. Namine gave his hand a squeeze, and from the look on her face, she was feeling as mixed up as he was.

"Did we do the right thing?" she whispered.

"I hope."

* * *

As the final chords faded, something bizarre happened. Demyx began to melt away into the background, but at the same time became clearer than ever. Zexion could only compare it to two identical transparencies being laid over top each other, each reinforcing the other but neither substantial on their own. And then one became more pronounced. That one turned and bowed to the audience as the faded one stepped off of the pedestal and dashed backstage.

The instant the translucent Demyx escaped the spotlight, Zexion's and Namine's jaws dropped. The back of his tuxedo jacket burst, enormous white wings erupting from his back. Before they could say or do anything, the hall suddenly ell to bedlam, a gust of wind sending sheet music flying, ladies skirts swirling, and finally catching the winged Demyx, bearing him up and out of sight.

And all either of the two onlookers could do was watch dumbly as the angel vanished from their lives.

* * *

"Zexion, wake up," a warm hand shook him gently, "Everybody left, I'm going back to our room. You coming with?"

Zexion blinked the sleep from his eyes. Axel stood above him, waiting for his answer.

"I – ah…later? I'm fine here for now. See you later Axel?"

"Suit yourself," Axel ruffled his hair with a grin, and left the room.

Zexion was all by himself in the common room of the dormitory. It was late December, and he and Axel were now roommates in the local college their arts school had shared a campus with. It had been almost a year since he and Namine had met Demyx, almost a year since the last time they saw him. Almost a year since their lives were turned upside down. He and Namine still spoke sometimes, but they always carefully skirted around the issue of the blond. Instead, it had become a sort of tradition for them to go to Mass every Sunday. Neither was religious, but it helped.

A cold gust of air wormed its way into the common room as a tittering group of girls came in, running down the hall. It chilled Zexion and rustled the branches of the Christmas tree, jangling the ornaments. At the top of the tree was a figure of an angel with long blonde hair, holding a lute. He smiled, imagining what Demyx would say, seeing an angel with a tree rammed up her butt.

He shook his head; there was no point wallowing. Zexion stood up, grabbing his coat from the back of the couch. Doing up the buttons, he pushed open the door and stepped out into the cold.

Even though it wasn't quite dark yet, the streetlamps were lit, making the snow below them glint. Near the edges of windowpanes, the glass had ice crystals, refracting the lights from inside. Everyone still outside was bundled up to the point where only eyes and noses were visible. The whole scene reminded Zexion of a painting by Norman Rockwell, or maybe Thomas Kinkade. All it needed was a group of carolers, and it could pass for a Christmas special on TV. Zexion was torn between finding it heartwarming and nauseatingly perfect. He shrugged up the collar of his coat and crunched along the sidewalk, wishing he'd grabbed a scarf or hat on the way out of the dorm.

He drifted along the streets like that for a while, barely registering the passing of time. It wasn't until the sun had disappeared completely that he snapped out of his daze.

Without thinking, his feet had taken him to the Catholic church he and Namine went to every Sunday. Even being an unreligious person, he did love the building. It was one of the oldest buildings on the campus, with Gothic architecture and a huge lawn sprawled out in front. On that lawn right now, folding chairs had been set up, all facing a makeshift stage. Every year, the church put on a Christmas play. Most of the chairs were already filled, but there were a few still empty towards the back. Not knowing what made him do it, Zexion slid into one of those chairs, avoiding making eye contact with anyone.

The play was, for the most part, entirely unremarkable. It was like every other performance of the story of Christmas. A sweet looking girl played Mary, the Wise Men's beards nearly fell off more than once, the animals in the stable were the kids too young to be trusted with any other part, and half of the parents in the audience couldn't figure out how to use their camcorders.

Zexion was beginning to wonder what it was that compelled him to sit down at all, but it was almost the end, and it would be more trouble to crawl over people to get out than to just wait the last five minutes. Then, the lights aimed at the main stage dimmed, and one moved to the outer corner. There stood a boy in a long white robe, a plastic halo above his head and an achingly familiar face.

"And so to them, Jesus was born. He who is the King of kings, the son of God, our Lord Immanuel."

"…Demyx…"Zexion breathed. A thousand and one thoughts were running amok in his brain, each determined to be thought first. And then Demyx saw him.

And the face that Zexion had longed to see for months went pale, and the eyes he'd seen every time he closed his own went round.

And as soon as the lights went out, he saw Demyx run as if the demons of Hell were right behind him.

"Demyx!" Zexion let out a strangled yelp, tearing after the angel.

* * *

"Why," Demyx panted, "Why did you follow me? Why couldn't you just let me go?"

Zexion looked taken aback, "Why'd you come back at all if you didn't want to see me?"

A dozen emotions flashed through those aquamarine eyes, trained so intently on Zexion's that he couldn't look away even if he'd wanted to.

"I did."

"What?"

Demyx took in a shaky breath, his eyes were glassy, "I wanted to see you. I don't think there was a day I _didn't_."

"Good," Demyx gave a surprised yelp as Zexion grabbed his wrist and took off at a run down the wet sidewalk. First he was too shocked to say anything, and then he was too out of breath. Finally, Zexion slowed to a stop. Demyx looked around, and saw the coffee shop. The same one Zexion had come out of that day.

"This is where it all started, isn't it?"

Demyx nodded, still panting.

Zexion hadn't let go of Demyx's hand. Instead, he took the boy's other hand in his free one and held them tight, his face a mix of fear and something Demyx couldn't (was afraid to) name. He opened his mouth to speak.

"No," Zexion whispered, dropping Demyx's hands and practically throwing himself forward to wrap his arms around the blond as tightly as was possible, "Please don't say what I think you're about to. Can you just let me pretend that I stopped you that night? That none of the rest happened, and that we're happy instead of frozen and miserable here?"

Demyx felt dampness against his neck, and heard Zexion suck in a shaky breath. Slowly, he drew his head back to see the smaller boy's face and smiled, "I think I can manage that." He tilted Zexion's face up and as he moved closer, grey-blue eyes widened, then fell shut. He went on his toes suddenly and the kiss that was supposed to be picture perfect ended up being clumsy but sweet.

Which, in Zexion's opinion, wasn't so bad.


End file.
